


Exercise in Trust

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Aramis gets down from the windows in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exercise in Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jlarinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlarinda/gifts).



> This is a ridiculous drabble-thing that JL gave me the idea for - aka, in episode 1x01, just how Aramis always gets down from his lovers' windows.

“You’ll actually catch me this time, right?” Aramis calls down from the window’s ledge, stubbornly holding on and tilting his head down to give Porthos a very determined and scolding look, he thinks, even though Porthos only laughs harder. “I still have a scar on my upper thigh from the last time, you know.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” Porthos calls up, laughter in his eyes as he holds out his arms. “Come on, you fool, just drop down already. We’re running late.” 

“At least I have my breeches on this time,” Aramis sighs to himself, holding onto the ledge with just the tips of his fingers. He knows he should keep his voice down, lest the Cardinal hear him, but he trusts that Adele’s superior voice should drown out any other sounds. He puffs up his cheeks a little, jealous despite himself, and imagines how easy it’d be to just pull himself back up, push open the window, and declare that he was there to sweep Adele away. He won’t, of course, but the romantic gesture would surely win him a few points from Adele before the Cardinal swiftly sends him to the gallows. 

“While we’re young, Aramis,” Porthos calls up, but there’s still laughter in his voice. 

Aramis tilts his head down and manages to flip his hair back in what he deems a very appropriate and romantic way, dashing and handsome, and bats his eyelashes down at Porthos. “My dear friend,” he calls, “I am _always_ young.” 

“Just get down here,” Porthos laughs, and Athos leans against the wall, looking bored but far too used to their antics to put up much protest to their banter. 

Aramis sighs dramatically, looks down at Porthos one last time, and then lets go, falling the last few feet and into Porthos’ arms, who catches him easily after years of practice after waiting outside various windows for Aramis to dramatically fling himself. 

“Hello, darling,” Aramis says, curling an arm around Porthos neck and grinning in greeting, recovering from that involuntary lurch of his stomach from falling through the air – not that he doesn’t know, instantly and completely, that Porthos will catch him every time. 

“You need to pick women with rooms on the bottom floor,” Porthos says conversationally. 

“Love is no match for a floor plan, my friend,” Aramis sighs, and pats Porthos on the cheek. “And besides, it’d be such a waste of such beautiful arms if you weren’t here to catch me.” 

Porthos sniffs. “You reek of her perfume.” 

“I reek of love,” Aramis protests, grinning. 

“Of sex, you mean,” Athos interrupts, conversationally. “Come on. We _are_ running late.” 

“Yes, yes,” Aramis says as Porthos sets him down. “Don’t I get a chance to make myself presentable?” 

“You saying you weren’t just born presentable?” Porthos teases. 

Aramis spots his hat on the ground and retrieves it, placing it on his head and then turning to Porthos to waggle his eyebrows obnoxiously. “A fair point, I _am_ lovely. Off we go, then.”


End file.
